Our Passion Party ...

... is set for Friday night, November 3rd. My children will be having a sleepover in the next town (lest some killjoy feel the need to phone Child Protective Services and report me), and my husband will be hiding under the bed in the Master Bedroom whilst my ladyfriends and I test-drive various and sundry "equipment" intended to scare the bejesus out of our suburban husbands.

I cannot wait. I'm serving shrimp cocktail and chocolate-covered strawberries and something with whipped cream. I'm also providing a taxi service to my girlfriends, so that they can have every bit as much fun as they'd like (and drink all of the alcohol I intend to provide for the occasion), without fear of crashing their mini-vans on the way home.

My friends "H" and "J" have announced that their husbands would like to attend, but there's no way I'm allowing that. After all, I was a virgin until I was twenty-one (that Catholic shit is hardcore), and these things require small, incremental steps. So: NO MEN. Besides, this is about women, and self-expression, and coaxing an orgasm out of your but-honey-Tiger-Woods-is-about-to-clinch-it lifepartner.

This is better than freaking Christmas ... and I haven't even seen the naughty stuff yet!